


Shed Your Armor

by moodwriter



Series: Owning Me, Owning You [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True love hurts, blissfully. A sequel to Owning Me, Owning You.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shed Your Armor

__

Shouldn't let you conquer me completely.  
Now I can't let go of this dream.  
Can't believe that I feel...

Good enough,  
I feel good enough.  
It's been such a long time coming, but I feel good.

And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall.  
Pour real life down on me.  
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough.  
Am I good enough for you to love me too?

So take care what you ask of me,  
'cause I can't say no. 

  
[Good Enough](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Frk-2F1MfiY&playnext=1&list=PL9A2168C9698EEB31&index=14) by Evanescence

A turmoil has settled into the little corner of his world, and there's no way to escape it. He closed that door already.

Three days ago, he flew back home, but Adam didn't. There's an ocean between them now.

The awful heavy feeling has left him, but otherwise he's a sweet sweet mess. He tries not to be jealous, tries not to be clingy or needy. He's the one who keeps things at arm's length. He's the one who needs time. 

He meets friends, visits family, goes to familiar places, but mostly he stays at home and watches TV. It's ridiculous how much time he has on his hands. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He even goes to yoga because Isaac makes him do crazy shit like that. 

He has no idea when to go to sleep, and he should probably remember to eat something, too. Monte has told him stories, how it feels to come home from tour, how fucking lonely you feel for the first few days because there's just not enough people around. 

Everybody comes to see him. That's his salvation. And there's constant messaging going on because nobody wants to let go. 

Tommy is happy that Adam's no different from the rest of them. He's maybe working, and he's maybe seeing that other guy, and he's maybe a star, but he's also completely and utterly theirs. 

They chat. It's the middle of the night for him, and it's morning for Adam.

 **Me:** I'm counting days to our next gig.  
Correction. Hours.  
 **Adam:** Hahah  
 **Me:** No, I'm serious. I'm Mr. Nobody at the moment. It's so weird. Nobody knows me. How does this even work? Do I need it? Do I need adoring fans? Gah!  
 **Adam** I'm so going to tease you over this.  
 **Me:** I'm showing you my pathetic side, and you laugh at me? How very supportive of you. :P  
 **Adam:** I know how you feel. You'll find a balance. It's a job. You'll need a bigger hat if you let it get to you.  
 **Me:** Yeah, yeah...  
I've been reading about Guns 'N' Roses. It's not a very good book, but what's pretty fucking clear... They couldn't stand tours ending. It ripped their hearts out every time.  
I'm doing my own laundry. My apartment is a mess. I barely eat anything because I need to cook. LOL. Seriously. How did I do all this before? How was it so fucking simple before?  
 **Adam:** I love you. I really do. You're so adorable.  
 **Me:** I'm not. I'm a whiny bitch.  
 **Adam:** Well, you're my whiny bitch. :)  
 **Me:** Am I?  
 **Adam:** Yeah...  
 **Me:** I fucking giggled!!!!! Stop that. Go away. Don't sweet-talk me.  
 **Adam:** Can I make you blush? Hmmm...  
 **Me:** I can't sleep if you say weird shit.  
 **Adam:** Really? Awwww...  
 **Me:** Go! You have stuff to do anyway.  
 **Adam:** I'm getting the impression you fear me. Am I right? :P  
 **Me:** I'm closing the chat now. I'll log off. I'm not talking to you.  
 **Adam:** Still here.  
 **Me:** Okay. Yes. Not like before. But yes. All this. Fucking frightening.  
 **Adam:** I'll be here to catch you.  
 **Me:** That's not helping. :)  
 **Adam:** Would it help if I said I'm as lost as you are?  
 **Me:** Really?  
 **Adam:** I've never let anyone this close without any... I don't know. We're not together. But I feel like we are. And aren't. And I really like... that other guy. And I just don't know what you want from me.  
 **Me:** I'm jealous. Does that say anything?  
 **Adam:** What do you want me to do?  
 **Me:** See it through and come back to me?  
 **Adam:** Who are you really? You're not real, are you?  
 **Me:** Hahahaa. I'm made of dreams, you know? Perfect and all. LOL  
 **Adam:** You have no idea how perfect you are.  
 **Me:** ...  
Thank you.  
 **Adam:** Go to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow. Same time?  
 **Me:** Yeah, it's okay. Good night.  <3  
 **Adam:** Good night. Love you.

Tommy stares at the screen. Adam is offline already. 

Something changed in Manchester, but everything stayed the same, too. How can they be so close, yet not draw any lines. They're not naming anything, and they probably should. 

Adam is not the first gay friend he's had. He's spent a lot of time with people who get shit thrown at their direction just because they love a bit differently. He's never been able to understand that. It's all the same to him. Yet, when it's his life and his decisions, it's not that easy. He knows how stupid the world is. He knows some people wouldn't even talk to him any more. But none of this really matters. It's more like the whole image of him is shady now. He can't see himself being openly with another guy. He can't imagine living his life like that. And he doesn't want to play, have some fun, do something wild and crazy. This person is far too important for messing around. 

But a full-blown relationship? He's thought about it, thought about holidays, their families, friends, trips, living together, having all that. Adding media to the equation, and it gets even more confusing. He wonders if that's what he really wants. He could have Adam by his side always anyway - but he's not sure if that's enough either. 

And there's always a possibility it just wouldn't work. Maybe he just couldn't get over the fact that Adam is a guy. He's maybe beautiful in all the levels of being human, but he's still a guy. Then again, Adam is the only guy he's ever wanted. 

He gravitates toward Adam. 

Tommy brushes a hand through his hair, tired but too wired to sleep. He watches Californication, and lets himself get lost in a story world. 

When he finally goes to sleep he dreams about Adam, dreams he can't remember in the morning. 

The following night Adam calls him at one. It's not the same time, and he's been waiting for two hours. He's annoyed, and answers the phone with mere, "Hello," sounding bored. 

"Sorry," Adam says. "It's the first time I'm alone."

That doesn't make it better. He falls backwards on his bed, spreading his legs and the hand that’s not holding the phone as far as he can. He tries to kill the ideas that those words brought. "Okay."

"Lane put me through hell. Interviews mostly. We're checking out studios as well."

The elephant does not get mentioned, but Tommy knows he's there. In Adam's bed, most likely. "Have you been sightseeing at all?" he finally asks, just to say something. 

"A little. I love Paris."

"The city of love," Tommy says before he can stop himself. He wants to crawl under a rock. He's being childish and stupid. 

Adam breathes in, sounds like he's about to say something and then pulls it back. He clears his throat. "Do you want me to call you?"

Tommy turns his head to the side, looks at the clock on the wall. Less than a minute, and he's already managed to spoil everything. "Yeah." He doubts Adam heard that. His voice is mostly gone. He's not that articulate anyway, but right now, he's a useless piece of crap with words. "Yes," he says louder, forces the word out of his mouth. He’s going to fucking admit it. 

"Okay." Adam laughs a little. "Let's start over. I call you, you answer."

"Hi, Adam," he says, purring his name.

"Hello, Tommy Joe. I've missed you."

He sounds so genuine, and Tommy can only believe him. "I've missed you, too." 

"I've told him that my situation is a little complicated," Adam says, sounding cautious. "He said he's kind of figured it out. He has an eye for things like that."

Tommy wonders what he's supposed to say to a thing like that. Wheeeeee? He feels dizzy, and he's happy about the whole lying-down-already thing. Whirlwind of emotions. Is it ever going to be over? "Okay," he chooses to say, and hopes he was more of a poet. 

Adam laughs again. "You're so very talkative on the phone."

"Sorry." Again he keeps things inside. He should say something, anything. "I'm not used to this." That's pathetic, too, but it's still better than silence. 

"Don't worry. I just love to hear you talk."

He wishes he could write things. It's so much easier than talking. "I think I hate talking on the phone."

"You talked to your mother, friends... even your landlord on the phone when we were on tour. I think I feel a bit offended here." He doesn't sound serious at all.

"FYI, I'm phone shy."

"Kitty, I think you're the most adorable thing that's ever stumbled into my life."

Tommy laughs, but a part of him is melting. He can't believe that he's that important to Adam, the same person who charms the audience with a few little moves and a voice of an angel, who can look like he owns the whole fucking planet, who's so together and so comfortable in his own skin that even though he's not perfect and even though he makes mistakes he's okay with it. Adam Fucking Lambert who gives orgasms to guys and girls alike just by being the gorgeous motherfucker he is. 

"Are you still there?" Adam asks, a small, worried tone creeping into his voice. 

"Yeah, just thinking what a gorgeous motherfucker you are." 

Adam cracks up, laughing so hard he disappears from the line for a while. When he comes back he says, "I so so so wanna hug you right now."

"I'm glad I didn't mess things up."

"This is a messy situation. I won't blame you if you can't be your best self to me all the time. I actually hope you won't be."

"Why?" 

"I want to be the only person who gets to see every crappy side of you."

"Only the crappy sides?" he jokes. He wonders how they always manage to go from goofy to serious to hot to hilarious in no time. Adam is a force of nature, and nothing can hold him down. It's both scary and sexy. 

"I want to see every side of you."

That sounds so personal he actually blushes. "What do you wanna see?" He knows he's stepping straight into the fire, but he can't help it. 

"Honestly?" Adam asks, voice low.

Tommy nods, then says, "Yeah."

"I want to see your back arching, the line of your body when you surrender... I want to see that."

"What else?" 

"Your lips parted for me, breath caught... Do you want me to continue?"

He's half-hard, the words and the voice doing funny things to him. "I've never..."

"I know."

He covers his face with his arm, shifting his hips a little. He wants to touch himself. "What is it about you?"

Adam doesn't say anything, just listens. 

"I'm lying on my back, legs spread, and I want to touch myself. You make me like this."

This time he can hear Adam's intake of breath. He's not unaffected. 

"I'm barefoot, wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. I know you love my arms uncovered, the tattoos showing." He also knows he’s a tease. He’s always been, his second fucking nature. 

"You know I love everything about you." Adam's smile is in his words, but so is his desire. Tommy can hear it loud and clear. 

He turns on his side, tries to smother the need pooling in his stomach. This is just beyond words. Stupid and gorgeous and funny and hot. He doesn’t know if he should smile or bang his head against the wall. Maybe both. “You drive me crazy,” he says. 

“Good.” 

“Fuck you.” He breathes out the last word, ridiculously soft and needy. 

“Oh, fucking hell, stop breathing to the phone.” Adam sounds beautiful. He wants to hear that tone again. 

“At least I know what I’m doing tonight,” he says, just to push Adam’s buttons some more. It’s possible he’s playing a dangerous game. And he was so sure he would never play any games with Adam. 

“Why not now?”

Tommy draws in a breath. He’s never done this before, not with a girl and definitely not with a guy. He stares at his fingernails, then slowly turns on his back again, thoughts running wild. 

"I'd love to drag down your jeans, watch my hands on your skin, watch you shivering, eyes closed like always. You can never keep your eyes open."

He switches the phone to his left hand, and lets his right hand slide down, his stomach muscles tensing beneath his palm and fingers. He cups himself through his pants, moaning, letting Adam know what he's doing. 

Adam swallows. "I can see you," he says, quiet and possessive. 

It's arousing, incredible, insane, and Tommy pushes all thoughts out of his head, lets himself feel. Adam keeps whispering nonsense to his ear, keeps him so close it's not possible they're an ocean apart. He melts in Adam's hold, surrenders to his words, lets Adam fuck with his mind, and feels so good it's almost frightening.

When he's absolutely out of his mind ready to come Adam tells him to do it. And it takes nothing else. _Come for me, baby._

He can't hold in the cry, can't hide anything. He's wide open. 

"You..." Adam says. "I can't even..."

Tommy tries to form words, but he's too worn out. He settles for a content sigh, feeling completely boneless and satisfied. 

Adam waits, says nothing, only pants quietly. 

It’s blissful, and he doesn’t want to move, but he’s sticky. He sits up and looks around, trying to find tissues, but sees nothing. He wants to keep the sheets clean so he gets up, his legs barely holding him upright. 

He laughs shakily. “I can’t walk,” he says to Adam. “Seriously.” 

“You give me ideas I can’t shake off.” Adam sounds like he’s holding back those ideas, trying not to overwhelm Tommy. 

Too late for that. 

Tommy takes hold of the wall, and gets himself to the bathroom, walking very slowly. He tells Adam to wait for a moment because he needs to wash his hands and clean himself, and maybe even put his pants on. 

The more time passes by the more aware of himself he becomes. He’s surprised that he doesn’t feel embarrassed, but he does feel odd. Phone sex, huh? He’s sure Mia would just love to hear all about this. 

When he picks up the phone Adam asks immediately, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He’s gained control of his limbs and walking is as easy as ever. He goes back to the bedroom and puts on his pajama pants: black, soft, loose, hanging low on his hipbones. “What about you?” he asks while looking at himself from the mirror. He’s maybe a bit flushed, but otherwise he doesn’t look any different. The thought makes him smile. 

“I’m stunned. You keep surprising me. I can’t figure you out,” Adam blurts, like he’s throwing up words. 

So, he’s human after all. 

Tommy tilts his head, smirks at his mirror image, and says, “Come home, and you can try figuring me out.”

“I want to crawl through the lines there right now.” Adam sounds pissed, and Tommy laughs at him. 

“I like your enthusiasm,” he says. He’s good at this game, but he’s also serious. 

He doesn’t want Adam seeing anyone else. He doesn’t want to be alone. He doesn’t want an open situation that serves no purpose. He has no idea what he wants, but he sure as hell doesn’t want this. He leans against the wall, wipes his face with his hand, and says, “Please, come home.”

It takes a moment for Adam to say anything. When he does speak the words are muffled and too close together. “Tommy, how serious are you?”

His palms are clammy, and his heart wants to escape his chest, but he’s either going to say this now or Adam will continue living his life like before. “I mean it. I don’t want… Just don’t… God, I can’t promise you anything right now, but I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else.” He pauses, swallows, tries to gather his thoughts and when Adam is about to say something he interrupts him with: “No, let me explain.” 

Tommy sits down, pulls his legs close to his chest, and hugs them. “I’ve never been in a situation like this. What we have is beyond everything I’ve ever felt or seen. You have power over me, the kind of power nobody has ever had over me. I breathe your words, your thoughts, your feelings. I breathe you. I don’t want… I can’t let it affect me when I try to figure out what the fuck it is that I want. But it does. You affect me. You’re under my skin. You’re everything. If I let myself go, if I don’t try to control it I think only of you. It’s not normal. You’re more to me than anyone else. Just… Please, give us time. Give me time.”

“Do you really think you’re the only one?” Adam asks, then mutters, “Typical.”

“What?” He bristles.

“It goes both ways, this thing we have.” Adam sounds preachy, but also genuinely baffled by Tommy's lack of observation skills. “I can’t even begin to explain how it makes me feel, how _you_ make me feel, the way you respond to things I do. You’re always there, right where I want you. I can feel you, all the time. God, you’re so blind.”

Tommy stares at his toes, just visible from under his pajama pants. The black nail polish is a gift from a fan. “You can feel me?”

“Yes, and it’s distracting sometimes, especially on stage. I know all the time where you are. It’s like I have a leash around my neck, and you’re holding the other end.”

That image gets burned to the back of his mind. He can never forget it. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“No,” Adam says, then adds, “And… your choice of words kills me.”

"Sorry." He shakes his legs, tries to get that extra agitation out of his body. If he smoked he would be doing that right now. Even his hands are shaking. 

Adam sighs, and then says softly, "So, think carefully what you ask of me. I can't... I've build a good life for myself, and it wasn't easy. Don't tear it down."

"I'm not trying to tear down anything."

"No, but you can't ask me to stop living my life, and give nothing in return."

He fucking knows that. "I'm not worth a little time?" he asks because it hurts. 

Adam lets out a sound that breaks Tommy's heart. "Of course you are. God, what are you thinking? But... How often do I meet someone who actually sees me? And in those times, how often do I see them back? You want me to say bye to him, and come back home... to what, Tommy?"

How did they end up here? And why is he so good at fucking things up? "To me," he says because that's the only truth he has. 

"But do you want the whole fucking package? Everything that comes with it? You don't know. And you shouldn't know." He pauses, then says, "You told me: _see it through and come back to me._ Can I do that? Or was that just talk?"

He bangs his head against the wall. "What the fuck, Adam? We just had phone sex. You asked me if we'll end up together... You know how I feel. I can't be that good. I can't be that okay with it. No matter what I said. And you still want to continue seeing him. Well, fuck you." 

He keeps his eyes closed, fights back the fucking tears, and just shakes. He's so angry he can't breathe. 

"Do you know how many times I've been in a situation where the other person doesn't know what they want? Slightly bendy straight guys especially. They never want it in the end. Never. Life is easier if it's just something casual and fun and then it's over and they go back to their girlfriends. I can't do that. You mean too much to me. I won't... What can I say?"

"I'm not one of those guys. You know that. And what we have... it's worth... Just..." Tommy swallows, then rests his chin on his knees. "Do what you have to do," he finally says. "I'll be here." 

And that's the soul of the situation. He'll be there, waiting, no matter what. How very pathetic. 

"Don't be like that. Do whatever you want. If it happens it happens-"

He interrupts Adam because he just can't take it any more. "This is the difference here. Right now, I can't even imagine myself seeing anyone. You're everything I see. So I'm in a sucky place. You do what you do. I do what I can. Let's see who loses in the end."

"You're being so unfair right now. I'm supposed to throw away everything even though you can't promise me anything? And then you guilt-trip me? Thank you." Adam doesn't even sound angry, just sad. 

"Tell me, how should I feel then? What would you do if you were me?"

"I'd take my time, and figure everything out for myself."

"And in the meanwhile I could be losing you... That's how this works?"

It sounds like Adam wipes his mouth with his hand. "I don't know how this works. I'm not an all-knowing fucking wizard. I'm trying..."

Tommy pulls away emotionally, puts the phone down for a moment, breathes in and out a few times. He has to remember that Adam has feelings for him. He has to remember that no matter how he sees Adam, he still lives with his own baggage, with all the things he's experienced and how those experiences have taught him. He has to see through this. 

"Okay," he says, determined. "I'm going to gamble: See it through, and come back to me. That's my bet. But... and I mean it... Nothing happens between us until it's over. Nothing. If you call me we don't talk about this. If we chat we don't talk about this. And when we meet... Just keep in mind that yours is not the only world that can be torn down."

Adam lets out a choked sound. "Nobody has ever..."

"I don't give a flying fuck. Really. Just do what you got to do. I'll be here. And I mean it. I fucking mean it so don't mess this up. And I'll put this motherfucking thing to pieces and figure out what's my take on it. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you. Now leave me alone." He's upset beyond words. He's never put himself in a position like this. Adam could crush him into tiny fucking miserable pieces right now if he wanted to. 

"You're-"

"Go. I can't speak right now."

"Okay. Thank you. I... adore you. Bye."

"Bye." He slides the phone away from him. He hates it a little. 

It takes him a long while to pick himself up from the floor. He's hungry, but it's three in the morning, and he's too tired to eat anything. He can't go to sleep either so he goes to the shower instead. 

The warmth of the water doesn't manage to soothe his tense muscles, and his neck starts to ache, hard. Monte sometimes tells him that whipping his hair like the way he does on stage might someday cause him major neck problems. Old man talking. But this is different, this is the kind of neck pain he gets when he's really upset, the kind that makes him throw up if he doesn't stop it somehow. 

Tommy rummages through his bathroom drawers and finds pain killers. He takes one, and then brushes his teeth, getting ready for bed. He can't believe he just jerked off while on the phone with Adam. What a great way to keep things simple. 

He stays awake for the better part of the night, thinking about things even though he tries not to. He remembers Adam's voice and how it made him feel, how completely undone he became when he let Adam take control. He wonders how it would feel if they were inches apart from each other, how hopeless he would be against Adam's rule over him. He's not sure if he wants to experience that. He fears losing himself. 

The days go by slowly. He doesn't wait for Adam's calls any more because that's the only thing he can still control somehow. And Adam does call, every night, on time, and he's so freaking adorable and excited about Paris and next year and recording a new album - and he's already writing new songs. Tommy shows him what he's been dabbling with, and Adam loves his songs to death. It makes him happy, but he tries not to show it. Any and all praise coming from Adam still makes him feel special and gorgeous. He wonders if it will ever change. 

After the NOH8 photo shoot he sends Adam a few of the draft versions. He's at lunch with Mia when he gets an SMS from Adam: _What have you been hiding? ksjdfasldk..._ He laughs at that, but doesn't answer. He's wearing Adam's necklace, and he knows some people will notice it. He wants them to. He knows Adam did.

Adam calls him from the airport, sounding tired and not so happy. "It's so freaking cold here my toes are aching," he complains. 

Tommy is secretly pleased that it's not always him who whines about things. 

"And you have no idea how many people jumped me yesterday. Like every freaking person that came to my view. And I haven't been sleeping much."

Tommy tenses, but tries to keep it hidden from Adam. He's sitting in his armchair, legs pulled under him. He forces his body to relax, lets his head fall back. "What time does your plane land?"

"Early enough that I can take a nap before the gig."

"We're leaving soon, too."

He knows Adam can hear what he won't say aloud: I can't wait to see you. And it's mutual. He can hear it, too. 

"I have a present for you," Adam says quietly. 

"What? No, no, no... I'm not taking any presents from you. No way."

"You have no choice in this matter." Adam kisses the phone. "I'll give it to you anyway." 

"Just don't give me anything tacky."

Adam laughs. "You know I'm all for tacky. Who wears glittery zebra pants, dear?" 

He lets the endearment slide and says, "I'm not wearing it."

"Oh, you will," Adam says, then falls quiet for a moment. "My gate is opening. I have to go. See you soon."

"Yeah, see you."

He gets ready quickly, packs a small carry-on bag, and chooses comfortable clothes for the flight. He hates flying with fiery passion, but fortunately Isaac is there. They share the same passionate relationship with flying, and always make it a little easier for each other to endure it. 

Tommy meets the troupe at LAX, and the reunion is warm and full of hugs, kisses and pats on the back. He hadn't realized how much he missed everyone until he saw them again. 

He can't even imagine how it will feel to meet Adam. 

They are Twitter-happy in the air because there's free internet access, and because it's always fun to bedazzle the fans. The closer they get to Philadelphia the funkier the butterflies in his stomach feel. He tries to sleep a little, listens to Depeche Mode, and chats with Isaac, who grabs his hand whenever the plane makes a funny noise. It's a joke, of course, but it also keeps the fear under control. 

Jingle Ball is definitely not Glam Nation. They get to do a short sound check, but nothing else, and Adam's plane from New York to Philadelphia is late. He won't get there until a little before the gig. 

There are other people on backstage, and everyone is socializing, Hollywood-smiles plastered on their faces. Tommy feels so out of place there that he finds a quiet corner and plays with his iPhone, drinking beer. Isaac, Monte and Cam sit close by, talking quietly. 

He knows Adam is there before he sees him. He looks up, waits, puts his phone away, and vaguely notices that the others are staring at him. Adam comes to view, and walks straight to Tommy, stopping right in front of his knees. "Hi guys," he says to everyone, and then looks at Tommy. "I need to talk to you."

Tommy follows him, waving bye to Cam because she's waving at him, a stunned look on her face. He watches Adam, his broad back and long legs, dressed in leather. He looks stunning. 

After opening a few doors, Adam finally finds an empty room, and pushes Tommy in, and before Tommy can say _What's up?_ Adam grabs his neck, pulls him close and crushes their mouths together. It's so violent he can do nothing but take it, hands finding Adam's arms, holding on desperately. 

When it's over he can barely breathe, and Adam's no different, resting his forehead against Tommy's. "God, I missed you," Adam says after a while. 

Tommy's lips are tingling, abused, and probably even red and bruised. He tries to speak. "Um... What was that?" He's still clinging to Adam, the leather jacket soft beneath his hands.

"My way of telling you I ended it." Adam kisses his lips, then the corner of his mouth. He bites his jaw and neck, finally whispering in his ear, "I'm gambling now, too."

His heart races, thoughts running wild. It's serious now, and it scares the shit out of him. "Great gambling," he says anyway because despite of everything that's how he feels.

Adam grabs his throat and holds him still, looks him in the eyes. "I'm yours if you want me," he says, clear but quiet, his eyes fierce. "So please figure things out fast." He kisses Tommy one last time, and then lets go, taking a few steps back, creating distance between them. 

Tommy sways on his feet, fears for a second that he'll fall. How embarrassing. He misses the warmth of Adam's body already, but it's the words that haunt him. "You mean it?"

There's no actual light in the room, just street lights illuminating parts of the room through the two windows facing the street. Tommy can still see Adam's eyes flashing, the way his mouth curves before he speaks. "Every word."

Tommy walks to him, stands on his tiptoes (fucking hell), grabs Adam's jacket and pulls him close. "Kiss me then."

Adam takes hold of his chin, and it feels so familiar his knees give in a little and he falls against Adam's chest. Adam's other arm circles around his waist, holds Tommy flush against him. The kiss is deep and demanding, but the urgency and violent possessiveness are gone. Adam strokes Tommy's cheek, cups his face with his hand, then grabs his hair, pulling, their lips parting. Adam forces his chin up, and keeps him still, just stares. 

He's breathing hard, and his scalp hurts, but Adam's eyes have captured him. He couldn't move even if Adam wasn't holding him down. Submissive, maybe, but he doesn't care. 

Then Adam pushes at Tommy's jacket, stretches the collar of his shirt, revealing a part of his shoulder. He bites down, sucking at the flesh at the same time. Tommy has no idea what kind of a sound he lets out, but his fingers dig into Adam's biceps, holding on so hard he's sure he leaves bruises there. He stops breathing, stops thinking, stops existing for a little while because Adam owns him, and he can do nothing about it. 

Adam lets go, fixes Tommy's clothes, and looks at him, no concern or fear in his eyes. He's just waiting. 

They're not touching, but Tommy can still feel Adam's teeth and tongue on his shoulder. The mark is burning, and he's ridiculously proud of it. He reaches out, touches Adam's cheek, and Adam leans into the touch. God, he's gorgeous. "We have to go," he says quietly. 

"I know." Adam takes his hand, the one that's still touching his cheek, and kisses the knuckles. Their eyes meet, so many secrets passing between them in that moment.

"I want this," he simply says, and knows Adam reads it right because the last veil in front of his eyes disappears. Adam holds his hand, and takes something out of his pocket. He puts it around Tommy's wrist, keeps his hand on top of it for a little while, then lets go. It's a smooth silver bracelet. 

"It says: _Promises are for sissies._ "

Tommy looks at it, then Adam, knowing his face is an open book. Sometimes he wishes he knew how to hide his feelings, but this is not one of those times. He hopes everything he feels can be seen. "Thank you."

When Adam kisses him two parts of him resonate with the touch: the mark on his shoulder and the skin under the metal around his wrist. He smiles against Adam's lips.


End file.
